I can go?
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Micro Cube Black Sabbath Settings
Ticks, remoras and larvae in the
There are thoughts that get into your head when you are very Pequenho. Thoughts that have little relation to reality, but sticking to the soul as a hindrance. Grow with you, and when one wants to think about other forms are hidden, they become invisible, let him think that it is free to believe whatever you want but still there, in the brain, reproducing old recordings as automatic.
That kind of thinking there are many that have to do with identity. Larvae enter through the ears about what you are and what is the other. Ideological worms on nationality, race, social class, the foreigners. Larvae that nobody wants that make us sick, but have nested comfortably in our parents, our teachers and our friends.
There are some particularly venomous having to do with gender. Tick \u200b\u200bsoul.
When you're Pequenho and one question directly on the differences gender, TV, teachers and responsible parents tell us that men and women are equal, we feel, we love and we as human beings, and that differences are more appearance-clothes-that essence. We say that daddy loves us the same way as breast and we would love it if we were born women or men.
We say we have the same rights, food, love, school.
But as we say those words that make us all smile and feel happy, eggs from these ticks are sticking by our eyes, our ears and our
skin.
These larvae will gradually beating in the cortex of the soul, telling us no. That men and women are not equal. That woman sure if I was born different, but maybe I'm whining, weaker, more sensitive. And my male friends are more intrepid, stronger and more divertidos.Mi mom has me wanting more than my dad and they certainly would have wished otherwise if I had penile-not if more or less, but otherwise. And so these ticks start to suck me happiness, because the human is not always equally human.
One of those ideas, which perhaps has caused me more pain is to think that men can not love fully. It is not something I want to think, and if you ask me on the ground of everyday life as never confess horrible thought, but there are times when I find myself feeling-thinking so. That
remora so cruel. Judging someone's heart by the formation of his genitals. But sometimes telling me to catch her ear, men do not fall in love cool, men feel less intense, men only care about sex, not love, men are authoritarian and stupid to prefer the spiritual beauty.
That grim. Not as many people have tried under these statutes.
Once I fell in love with a boy and always felt that I loved him more than what my. Then he showed me he loved me and then did not believe him. I thought not. And leave him based on that conviction. And it hurt.
I was easier to believe a woman. And I'm glad because that decision was lucky, but with anhos I realize that he had no to see if their genitals were in one way or another, their tenderness is powerful enough to fend off ticks that bother me with prejudice against their nationality or background.
Sometimes I think all the important decisions of humans are the most often taken by those larvae hatred of difference and self-hatred through the heart.
Where is the autonomy? Is it that we can never shake and start to think and live freely? 
There are thoughts that get into your head when you are very Pequenho. Thoughts that have little relation to reality, but sticking to the soul as a hindrance. Grow with you, and when one wants to think about other forms are hidden, they become invisible, let him think that it is free to believe whatever you want but still there, in the brain, reproducing old recordings as automatic.
That kind of thinking there are many that have to do with identity. Larvae enter through the ears about what you are and what is the other. Ideological worms on nationality, race, social class, the foreigners. Larvae that nobody wants that make us sick, but have nested comfortably in our parents, our teachers and our friends.
There are some particularly venomous having to do with gender. Tick \u200b\u200bsoul.
When you're Pequenho and one question directly on the differences gender, TV, teachers and responsible parents tell us that men and women are equal, we feel, we love and we as human beings, and that differences are more appearance-clothes-that essence. We say that daddy loves us the same way as breast and we would love it if we were born women or men.
We say we have the same rights, food, love, school.
But as we say those words that make us all smile and feel happy, eggs from these ticks are sticking by our eyes, our ears and our
skin.
These larvae will gradually beating in the cortex of the soul, telling us no. That men and women are not equal. That woman sure if I was born different, but maybe I'm whining, weaker, more sensitive. And my male friends are more intrepid, stronger and more divertidos.Mi mom has me wanting more than my dad and they certainly would have wished otherwise if I had penile-not if more or less, but otherwise. And so these ticks start to suck me happiness, because the human is not always equally human.
One of those ideas, which perhaps has caused me more pain is to think that men can not love fully. It is not something I want to think, and if you ask me on the ground of everyday life as never confess horrible thought, but there are times when I find myself feeling-thinking so. That
remora so cruel. Judging someone's heart by the formation of his genitals. But sometimes telling me to catch her ear, men do not fall in love cool, men feel less intense, men only care about sex, not love, men are authoritarian and stupid to prefer the spiritual beauty.
That grim. Not as many people have tried under these statutes.
Once I fell in love with a boy and always felt that I loved him more than what my. Then he showed me he loved me and then did not believe him. I thought not. And leave him based on that conviction. And it hurt.
I was easier to believe a woman. And I'm glad because that decision was lucky, but with anhos I realize that he had no to see if their genitals were in one way or another, their tenderness is powerful enough to fend off ticks that bother me with prejudice against their nationality or background.
Sometimes I think all the important decisions of humans are the most often taken by those larvae hatred of difference and self-hatred through the heart.
Where is the autonomy? Is it that we can never shake and start to think and live freely?
Friday, March 11, 2011
Free First Audition.com
soul out there.
Sometimes when I think of the immensity of the cosmos, it makes me want to mourn.
This planet we live, so beautiful, so many voices. And out there floating rocks and gases. Pieces of fire in the midst of emptiness. On this scale a woman breastfeeding her child. Other voices should be speaking other languages \u200b\u200bout there. Or not. Someone
Sometimes when I think of the immensity of the cosmos, it makes me want to mourn.
This planet we live, so beautiful, so many voices. And out there floating rocks and gases. Pieces of fire in the midst of emptiness. On this scale a woman breastfeeding her child. Other voices should be speaking other languages \u200b\u200bout there. Or not. Someone
Covering Lasagna With Foil
Someone is going ...
loved goodbye. My heart becomes a piece of gum, stick to the shoe on the other and stretches. It stretches from my chest to his shoe. But the other did not stop walking. How elastic is my heart? May break the link?
The other looks at me with eyes of email or skype, I speak with your voice phone or their status. But I hear or see. I need the other's body. The hug. The look.
My heart knows not get on planes. My heart does not understand globalization.
is always the other who is gone.
And I'm left with my own words, my own fears.
The other the beloved, you will find new lands, new loves. But I'll stay, stay and grow old. My heart is stuck to your shoe. Give me back my heart.
The other looks at me with eyes of email or skype, I speak with your voice phone or their status. But I hear or see. I need the other's body. The hug. The look.
My heart knows not get on planes. My heart does not understand globalization.
is always the other who is gone.
And I'm left with my own words, my own fears.
The other the beloved, you will find new lands, new loves. But I'll stay, stay and grow old. My heart is stuck to your shoe. Give me back my heart.
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